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prologue

MOLLIE

The trail dips down a ravine, the single track surrounded by tall grass, then immediately straight back up a rocky hill. It looks challenging. It looks— maybe ?—impossible.

I don’t hesitate. My momentum and peer pressure push me over the ridge, flying through the downhill stretch, then I stand up from my seat to tackle the incline. My thighs burn from the climb. My breath comes in gasps. My heart is going to beat right out of my chest. But I’ve got it—a bit farther, a little more intensity. Push!

Look at the trees lining the trail. So many different colors of wildflowers. It’s gorgeous. This distraction works for about 10 seconds. The scenery isn’t moving fast enough.

The loud music in my ears urges me on. I try to use my butt muscles, like my instructor said. I’m moving…very…slowly. This is harder than I expected. The pedals are barely moving, and sweat is dripping down my forehead into my eyes. It’s still so far. One of my legs is cramping.

I keep going. A little bit at a time, I keep moving up the hill. Gravity seems to push me back as fast as I can push the pedals. I’m gasping for air.

One word starts to echo through my head: No.

This is too hard. I’m never going to make it.

No , says my head. And my pounding heart and my cramping legs. No .

I hit the button to release the pressure and fly up the remainder of the leg without any resistance, ducking my head as everyone around me in the spin class celebrates reaching the top of the trail shown on the big screen at the front of the room. I don’t deserve any celebration. I wimped out. Again.

Sophie, on the bike directly in front of me, turns around to whip her towel at me. “That was great! We’re going to be so ready for this trip.”

Nora, two bikes over, raises her towel in the air and pumps it.

I put my towel over my face and silently scream.